The Days: As It Once Was
by miragedelgado
Summary: When she can remember every multiversal incarnation of herself, does the question "Who is Donna Troy?" become an albatross around the neck?
1. As It Once Was

**Title:** As It Once Was.  
><strong>Author:<strong> mirage_delgado  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> DC Universe.  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Donna Troy  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> DC Comics owns all. (And Superboy, too. Who knew?)  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> XXXX

"If this is the best of all worlds, what are the others like?" Voltaire, _Candide._

[The present.]

Donna Troy knows there is no air in a vacuum, but she feels a light breeze gently ruffle her hair. She also knows that the laws of science say there is no sound in outer space, yet she can hear the wind's soft howl as it echoes throughout the crumbling ruins of this ancient metropolis. Just a few of the many incongruities on Day 9,168 of the rest of her life, another day wherein things don't make a bit of sense. Another day she wakes up confused and pissed off.

Pissed off because it was her morning to open the library, but she had forgot to set the alarm and had overslept (again) and the last thing she needed was her boss cursing her up one side and down the other for being late (again) and so she found herself half dressed, in a frantic search for her car keys (for a car that doesn't exist) before she catches herself. Catches herself shaking her head, telling herself that life wasn't hers, it never was yours, you stupid ass, only the memory of it and why are you crying anyway?

Most of her days start off like that, in a state of confusion, panic and perpetual deja vu. It usually fades, like a half-remembered dream, the first few minutes after waking up, but not today.

Today she walks the lifeless streets of New Chronus. She returns to her childhood home (one of many) whenever she needs to clear her head or finds herself in need of a new beginning. She starts by asking the question she's asked herself everyday for the last four hundred and thirty six; Who is Donna Troy?

The answer, in order: Amazon. Daughter. Sister. Photographer. Heroine. Widow. Unique. Alone.

She knows she should talk about this with Mother or Diana or Dick. But she won't. She knows they would be sympathetic without understanding and she really doesn't see the point of it. She's almost unable to comprehend it herself, let alone up to the task of explaining it to family.

But if anyone ever called her hard enough on it, she would put it in these terms: Once upon a time, there was no life. No worlds, no stars, no universe. There was nothing but the darkness of The Void. Into The Void came The Light. The Light replaced The Void with the universe - The One. Eons later, The One became an infinity of worlds with an affinity for life, until Infinity reverted back into One (and would again become, if not truly infinite, then Many.)

Naturally, all sentient life assumed that the universe had been just the One, period. This was wrong, but understandable. The great Crisis had reset everyone's perceptions, probably for the better. The knowledge that the whole of Creation truly is infinite...such knowledge is dangerous to the human mind. Revelation brings awareness. Awareness brings madness. Madness brings the end of reason, of civilization.

Donna understood that much and agreed with it.

She alone remembered Infinity, as it once was. She remembered each of the worlds that comprised it. Scientists called it the multiverse. Parallel universes, segregated from one another. Nearly identical Earths, except when they weren't. Most of them were impossible to reach, many of them untamed. Untamed, dangerous worlds that neither she nor anyone else ever had any business visiting. Not that this had stopped her, of course...

She knows she should talk about this with Mother or Diana or Dick or _anyone, _really. But she won't. She won't because none of them remember Infinity, as it once was. None of them remember these parallel Donnas, segregated from one another. These nearly identical Donnas, except when they weren't. An infinite number of Donnas, all of them now long dead.

These Donnas, all of whom are ghosts in possession of her mind.

She won't talk to anyone about this because none of them would mourn.

She returns to New Chronus whenever she finds herself in need of a new beginning. She starts by asking the question she's asked herself everyday for the last four hundred and thirty six. Who is Donna Troy? Confused. Unique. Alone. No comfort at all there.

Perhaps it's time for a new question. Who _was_ Donna Troy? A woman with an infinite set of experiences, gained from an infinite number of parallel lives lived under an infinite set of life circumstances.

Donna Troy knows that there is no air in a vacuum, yet she feels the breeze. No sound, but she hears the wind howl. Just a few of the many incongruities of her life on Day 9,168, the rest of her life.

Another day where nothings makes sense.

She closes her eyes. And remembers Infinity, as it once was.

This is Day One of the past.


	2. Pyre

[Day 9,003.]

The flames burned, casting an eerie orange glow which illuminated the stuffed doll Donna Evans cradled in her hands. The toy was small and wretched, a horrid-looking thing covered in twenty-plus years worth of soot and ash, held half-together by a few stands of thread. Looking at it in the fire's light, she couldn't believe she had kept it all these years.

And why had she? This doll came home from the orphanage with her. Mom believed it had been the last gift bequeathed to Donna by her biological parents. It's been her security blanket, her spirit totem and her rock. It's always been there, just like the moon, the stars and the sea.

It's accompanied her everywhere. At home, where it was her favorite playmate until her little sister was born, and at the school bus, where she punched little Tommy James smack in the jaw for even thinking of playing keep-away with her beloved doll. Sleep during naptime in Kindergarden was impossible without it by her side. She insisted that Mom make Dolly a plate of her own at supper. Bathtime was an absolute horror; Dad had to literally pry the damn thing from her hands every time she went in the tub. And of course, it accompanied her to sleep, to scare the boogey men back under the bed.

Once puberty hit, and boys had replaced toys, it became forgotten. But her mother had kept it, storing it safely away in the attic until one day, with her youngest heading off to college, Fay Evans was finally ready to dispose of a lifetime of memories. Any toys still in good shape would be donated to charity, the rest thrown in the trash.

And so it was that while helping her mother clean, she rediscovered her beloved, forgotten Dolly. She couldn't believe Mom had kept it all those years. It was a wretched looking, soot covered thing, held half-together by a few stands of thread. It looked so much smaller than she had remembered.

Donna Evans cradled the stuffed doll in her hands. It was too frayed to donate as a hand-me-down; throwing it away was disrespectful.

When she had told her family that she was finally going to get rid of her once most cherished object, Mom said "Pumpkin, are you sure want to burn it? You should keep it. It's the last connection you have to your real family."

Donna just smiled. That wasn't true at all.

She places Dolly into the funeral pyre. The flames burn bright. Ashes rise into the night.


End file.
